


More Than Fine

by SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance)



Series: Freeform Rarepair Prompts [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Actually a lot of things are different in this universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, But are pretty sure the Jedi Master is even more of a Disaster Human, Cake, Flirting, Fluff, Jedi Code, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, This is about how you seduce a Jedi Master, Tiny bit of Angst, Very Confused Obi-Wan, Very Flirtatious Chirrut, When you yourself are a bit of a Disaster Human, but that's all in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson
Summary: Chirrut is convinced that Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempt at holding to the old Jedi Code isn't what's best for Luke. Baze is convinced that Obi-Wan Kenobi is lonely. He sees an easy solution to both problems.“You think he’s hot.” Baze said, confident.Chirrut spluttered. “I do not think that stuck-up—”“Bullshit. You come at me like you’re in heat after you spar with him. I know when I’m being used.”“That doesn’t mean...fine. Yes. He’s an arrogant bastard but he’s a beautiful arrogant bastard.”“You should seduce him. Bet he stops complaining about attachments if you’re the attachment.”Featuring a very confused Obi-Wan, a very flirtatious Chirrut, and Chirrut and Obi-Wan shoveling huge amounts of sass at each other.





	More Than Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilian_Cho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian_Cho/gifts).



> An open call for rairpair prompts lead [Lilian_Cho](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian_Cho/) to ask for: _"Dude, OB1/Chirrut--I blame youuuuuu~"_. So here you go, enjoy my pool noodle of a ship in [Pieces of You in Others](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194506) finally expanded to get a tiny canoe of its own.

* * *

Chirrut slammed shut the door to the quarters he and Baze shared. He stalked into the room. “He’s going to ruin that boy.” 

He heard Baze’s soft, exasperated, exhale from the back room, where he lay on the bed. Probably sleeping. Chirrut felt a bit of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Love, I didn’t know you were sleeping.” Chirrut made his way over to Baze.

“Would it have made a difference?” Baze asked as he sat up in bed. Chirrut felt Baze’s hand grab his, tugging him closer. 

“Probably not.” Chirrut smiled a little as he let himself be drawn into straddling Baze’s lap, Baze’s hands warm on the backs of his thighs. 

“So what’s he done this time that’s got you so infuriated?”

Chirrut sighed, letting his head fall forward to press his forehead against Baze’s. “That ‘attachment leading to the dark side’ rigidity again.” 

“You’re usually able to laugh that off.” Baze’s hands soothed along the backs of Chirrut’s legs.

“Yes.” Chirrut swallowed, feeling a little embarrassed. “I let it get to me. He made it personal. Said it was a good thing I never became a Jedi, because you would have been my downfall. It turns out I can brush off any number of ridiculous things said about me, but if he insults you…I’m afraid my storming out may have proved his point.”

Baze rumbled his amusement. “I couldn’t lead to your downfall if I tried. You’re too stubborn.” His hands ran down Chirrut’s thighs and calves to his feet, finding Chirrut’s sandals. He slid them off as he said, “And I highly doubt he’s going to convince the boy of it either. Luke’s smart. Seems to have been raised by good people. He’ll find his own path. He’s got you to help him see that he can.”

Sandals off, Baze’s hands continued their journey back up Chirrut’s legs...this time under Chirrut’s robe. Chirrut made a pleased noise at the feeling of skin on skin. 

“Come on,” said Baze, hands edging up Chirrut’s thighs, “Jedi doesn’t know what he’s missing. I’ll remind you attachment has its perks.” 

Chirrut made a pleased noise before he started tugging at his robes. “I never forget that, you know. But I can always do with a refresher.”

* * *

Baze was almost asleep again. Chirrut could tell by the way his breathing started to flatten and his arms and legs twitched a little. Before he could get too deep into sleep, though, something seemed to stir him. He rolled over, nudged Chirrut’s shoulder. “Who does Obi-Wan have?” 

Chirrut felt a bit of annoyance. “You know, you had just done a very good job driving all thoughts of that Jedi from my mind.” 

“Who?” Baze asked again. 

“He knows Bail…” 

“Bail’s too busy pretending to be the Emperor's lapdog. Anybody else?” 

Chirrut sighed. “No. He’s always seemed very lonely.” 

“And he ran away after whatever happened with Luke’s father.” 

“I was enjoying being angry at him, Darling. Stop making me pity him.” 

“He’s guilty and lonely. He needs a lover, not a theological debate.” 

“There’s not much I can do about that.” Chirrut stretched out in bed, pressing his arms against the headboard and pointing his toes out as far as they would go. He was in the middle of reveling in the stretch when Baze’s finger prodded his side. With an indignant yelp he curled away from the offending digit. 

“You think he’s hot.” Baze said, confident. 

Chirrut spluttered. “I do not think that stuck-up—”

“Bullshit. You come at me like you’re in heat after you spar with him. I know when I’m being used.” 

“That doesn’t mean...fine. Yes. He’s an arrogant bastard but he’s a beautiful arrogant bastard.” 

“You should seduce him. Bet he stops complaining about attachments if you’re the attachment.” 

Chirrut opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then opened it to say, “Neither of us has taken an outside lover in a decade.” 

Baze grunted. “Then it’s about time. Nobody’s felt right. He does.” 

Chirrut felt a rush of affection for his husband, who every day showed Chirrut how it was possible to love without possession, to connect without demanding. Baze was living proof of how wrong Obi-Wan was. “Did you want to share in this hypothetical Jedi bedding?”

“No. I’m tired and old. I can barely keep up with you.” 

Chirrut gasped, loud and overdramatic. “Nobody talks about my husband that way.” 

Baze shoved at him. 

“I’m not entirely certain how I would even go about seducing Obi-Wan. Hypothetically. I’m not committed to the idea.” 

“Just take your robes off before you spar next time. Your abs are more persuasive than you’ll ever be.” 

“You say the sweetest things.”

* * *

Chirrut walked back into the sparring room, still undecided on the wisdom of Baze’s plan. Seducing the Jedi seemed a bit...petty. Chirrut was certain he could manage a calm sobriety, that he could be reasonable, and then Luke could have another mentor in his life, one who could show him the possibilities that came when you weren't afraid to connect with other people. 

He heard Obi-Wan’s voice from across the room, cutting over the hum of training lightsabers. “Ah, Master Îmwe. I'm surprised to see you again, after your sudden departure yesterday.” A hint of a smirk ran through his voice.

That arrogant— 

Chirrut started stripping out of his outer robe. Sobriety never had been one of his strengths. 

Through his stretch and warm-up Chirrut could hear Obi-Wan’s normally measured breathing hitch and catch from time to time. There was one particularly satisfying moment when Chirrut did a headstand and his loose linen pants slid up his calves. He heard Obi-Wan stumble and then Luke’s triumphant shout as he got the rare slash in past his mentor’s guard. 

He bent out of the handstand in the most showy way possible, arching his back and slowly dropping his feet in front of him, then coming out of the backbend with a measured control that he knew showed off his core.

He actually got a grunt out of that one. 

He dropped the show when he sparred with Luke, lightsabers set aside in favor of hand-to-hand, trying to show him how to break a specific hold. Luke was a quick study but uncontrolled, too fast and wild in his movements. Chirrut strove to teach him patience and care; to let mastery of the force supplement his own mastery over his body. Baze was right. Luke was a good kid, he’d get the hang of it sooner or later. 

At the end of the session he sensed a change in the air. Obi-Wan dismissed Luke with a gentle, “Good work, go get some food.” But Obi-Wan didn’t leave, he stilled and seemed to regard Chirrut.

Chirrut supposed that Obi-Wan could have been regarding any number of things, but he had it on good authority (Baze, mostly) that his chest was very distracting. 

“Interesting choice of exercise attire.” Obi-Wan finally said. 

Chirrut shrugged, “It’s pleasant weather. There’s something very liberating about shedding robes. You should try it sometime.” 

“I’m afraid I’m still rather attached to modesty.” 

“Your loss.” Chirrut stretched, and he heard Obi-Wan lick his lips. Chirrut preened internally. It was so nice to be appreciated. “I’m not quite ready for lunch. Put your sword aside and spar with me.”

“I don’t know. I’m feeling peckish.”

Nevertheless, Chirrut heard Obi-Wan toss his lightsaber off to the side, footsteps carrying him toward the sparring mat. Chirrut joined him, predatory grin on his face. 

“That’s a dangerous smile, Master Îmwe.” The mat shifted minutely as Obi-Wan settled into his ready stance. 

“Did the force warn you of it, Master Kenobi?” Chirrut settled into his own stance. 

“I was able to work it out on my own.” 

And they began. 

Sparring with Obi-Wan was a joy. He was quick and light on his feet, hands snapping out precisely before drawing back again. There was control to his movement, but also a showmanship. He sparred like an audience was watching and he wanted to make it interesting for them. Which, to be fair, Chirrut fought the same way. Sometimes, Chirrut felt like he and Obi-Wan talked most effectively like this, give and take more natural physically than it ever was conversationally. 

Normally, Chirrut carried a slight advantage with hand-to-hand fighting, while Obi-Wan tended to trounce him handily when they used the swords. But Chirrut was already worn from training Luke, and Obi-Wan pressed his advantage. 

In short time Chirrut found himself on his back, one of Obi-Wan’s legs wrapped around his right thigh, pinning it to the ground. Obi-Wan sprawled across his chest, looking almost comfortable as he locked down one of Chirrut’s arms with his torso and the other with his arm. Chirrut kicked out with his free leg, but Obi-Wan was too smart in how he positioned himself. He gave an experimental wriggle, found the hold was firm. 

He also found the hold wasn’t the only thing that was firm. His wiggling was met with a low rumble from Obi-Wan, scent of arousal mixing with the fresh sweat. Chirrut was seized by the impulse to lick his way down Obi-Wan’s neck, collecting the scent and taste of him on his tongue. Probably just as well he was careful in his pin. Chirrut knew his impulse control often failed when there were no life-or-death consequences attached.

He shifted again, this time with more intention, a slow gyrate that moved his body along Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s hand spasmed forcing him down to the mat with even more intention than before.

“What are you _doing_?” Obi-Wan growled, showing no sign of letting Chirrut up. 

“Oh, I think you can work that out yourself.” Chirrut smirked, arching up into Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shifted, locking Chirrut even more in place. It was harder for Chirrut to move, but now Obi-Wan’s body was pressed all the more firmly against his, warm and heavy. Chirrut made a content noise in the back of his throat. Obi-Wan probably hadn’t thought that through. 

Obi-Wan made a frustrated noise. “I would still like an _explanation_ for why you’ve suddenly decided to be so...distracting.” 

“I want to bed you,” Chirut said. He had considered being coy, dancing around the issue. But Chirrut knew where his strengths lay and it was not in subtle action. Besides, Obi-Wan had the Force if he wanted to press the issue. Better to be direct. 

Obi-Wan made an almost wounded noise and pushed off of him. “You…Baze.” 

Chirrut sat up again, rolling his shoulders. The cold was already seeping in, his body missing the heat of Obi-Wan’s body on top of him. “It was Baze’s idea. Ask him, if you like.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan sounded scandalized. 

“You seem lonely and I think you’re handsome. Baze thinks you’d be good with me. I’ve learned to trust his judgement on these things.” 

“I…” Obi-Wan cleared his throat awkwardly. Chirrut would wager he had a lovely flush to his cheeks. Obi-Wan took a breath and seemed to rally. “Did nothing I said yesterday sink in? I have a code, and that sort of connection is forbidden. I lived nearly two decades in isolation. It isn’t loneliness. I am at peace with it.” 

Chirrut stretched out his arms, rubbing where Obi-Wan had pinned him. “Obi-Wan, the Jedi Code has done a great deal good, but it has also done a great deal of harm. It’s done _you_ a great deal of harm. You know I hold to a different code.” 

“A dangerous one.” Obi-Wan’s voice went quiet. 

Chirrut managed to bite back a comment about the fact that _his_ code hadn’t caused him to live in a hut for twenty years. Hadn’t caused whatever it was that made the force run cold around Obi-Wan whenever he discussed Luke’s father, either. But, as Baze had said, Obi-Wan didn’t need a theological debate. 

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Obi-Wan said.

“That’s fine. But I like you, and if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Chirrut grinned in Obi-Wan’s general direction. 

As Obi-Wan got to his feet, joints creaking a little, Chirrut heard him mutter, so quiet he probably thought he was unheard, “A very dangerous smile, indeed.”

* * *

Chirrut carefully placed a cup of tea near Obi-Wan’s elbow. Absent-mindedly, the Jedi picked it up. He sipped at it, then there was a soft sigh of enjoyment as he relaxed. Chirrut gave it another beat, then heard Obi-Wan shifting around, giving a decidedly less cheerful sigh when he turned towards Chirrut. 

Chirrut sipped out of his own mug. “Seemed like you could use some tea. It’s a personal blend.” 

“Ah. It is...a good blend. Thank you.” Obi-Wan said slowly, like he was waiting for a trap. 

“Excellent. Do you prefer milk, sugar? For future reference.”

“I...am fond of a small splash milk.” Obi-Wan allowed. The cup clinked back down against the saucer, and Obi-Wan shifted. “I’m not sleeping with you.” 

“That’s fine. I’m still interested. But that’s not why I brought the tea.” 

“Then why did you?” 

“It’s a peace offering. I would like us to be friends, Obi-Wan.”

* * *

Chirrut walked into the practice room holding two plates. He was greeted by the harmonizing hums of the lightsaber and a stun-bolt spitting practice droid. “Keep your elbow up!” He called over to Luke. 

“It _is_ u—” Luke yelped as the droid scored a hit. 

“Listen to the Force, Luke, not meddling guardians trying to throw you off,” Obi-Wan said, his voice somewhere between irritation and affection. 

“Chirrut’s not trying to throw me off.” Luke blocked another blast, but his swing sounded sloppy.

“I am. And it’s working. Focus, Luke,” Chirrut said, letting gentle amusement color his tone. 

Obi-Wan let out a snort of amusement as Luke muttered darkly and tried to focus back in on the training droid. Then he seemed to remember that he didn’t entirely approve of Chirrut and stiffened again. 

Chirrut leaned against the wall next to Obi-Wan and held a plate out to him. “Cake?” Chirrut was sure to say it loud enough that Luke could hear.

Obi-Wan took the plate. He took a bite, then hummed in satisfaction. Loudly. “That is a fine example of baked goods. Delicious.”

Chirrut was pleased to hear Luke's swing didn't falter. Still, a wide grin grew on his face, and he replied, voice still a hair too loud. “I think they infused the chocolate frosting with a Vissa Bean extract, it really adds to the flavor.”

The droid spat out three more bolts, the lightsaber hummed in three sure swings. Chirrut had to duck out of the way as a bolt was redirected at him with unnerving accuracy. 

“Sorry!” Luke said, cheerful but entirely insincere. “Did I interrupt?”

Chirrut burst into laughter. He was pleased to hear Obi-Wan chuckling next to him. 

“Your aim is off,” Obi-Wan called. “You missed him.”

Chirrut laughed harder. Eventually the chuckles died down. “If you finish your training sims and leave me unscathed, I could be convinced this other piece is for you.”

Luke made a happy noise of acknowledgement and Chirrut felt Luke's attention slide off of him and return to the training sim. 

After a second, Obi-Wan nudged the plate in Chirrut’s hands. “Did you give me the wrong one? The one in your hands is quite a bit smaller.”

Chirrut leaned a little closer to Obi-Wan, whispered to him, “Ah, Master Kenobi, _Luke_ already likes me. I don’t have to buy his goodwill.” 

Obi-Wan made an uncomfortable noise and said very softly, “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chirrut let out a soft snort. Matching Obi-Wan’s careful volume, but unable to keep the humor out of his voice, he replied, “Well, that’s fine. Honestly, I really do hope that it takes more than a slice of cake to get you to spread your legs—” He was interrupted by Obi-Wan jabbing his bicep with his fork.

“That’s enough of that sort of talk. Not in front of Luke.” 

Chirrut was surprised that Obi-Wan added a qualifier. It implied that Obi-Wan might be willing to continue the conversation sometime when Luke wasn’t around. 

Still, his pride demanded he respond to a fork being wielded against his arm. “That is both painful and unsanitary.” 

Obi-Wan proceeded to take another bite of cake, with the same fork.

Chirrut made a horrified noise. Obi-Wan chuckled. 

Chirrut muttered back at Obi-Wan, “I have no idea why I want to bed you. You’re a menace. Still. The offer is open. More reluctantly now, though.” 

Obi-Wan chuckled and continued eating the cake.

* * *

“What is this?” Obi-Wan’s voice dripped with suspicion.

“It’s a gift, Obi-Wan. Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve received a gift.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Obi-Wan grabbed the bag out of Chirrut’s hands with an ill-tempered huff. 

Chirrut tipped his head and started to walk away. 

“I expected you’d be the sort to want to watch me open this.” Obi-Wan called after, sounding a little confused. 

“With what eyes?” Chirrut turned, grinning.

Obi-Wan groaned. 

Chirrut waved, went on his way again. His show of nonchalance lasted until he went around the corner, when he promptly edged his way against the wall and listened intently to Obi-Wan. He heard a rustle of paper, a soft pleased noise. Chirrut smiled to himself, turned to go on his way. 

Something in the air moved oddly and Chirrut turned around again. By the time he had finished his turn he was abruptly aware of a presence in front of him. Chirrut tensed and his hands flew into a defensive position...at least until he heard Obi-Wan chuckle. Chirrut lowered his hands, put a hand on his heart, and gave a few dramatic huffs. 

“It occurred to me, Master Îmwe, that a blind man needn’t see to eavesdrop.” There was humor in Obi-Wan’s tone. 

Chirrut shrugged, caught. “Clever thinking.” He tipped his head to the side, considering Obi-Wan’s presence. “You move quickly. It takes a lot to sneak up on me.” Chirrut reached out with his foot and tapped on Obi-Wan’s toes. Shoeless. Clever. 

“I am aware of this. And rather pleased I managed it. You should have _seen_ the look on your face.”

“Hold on now. I’m the only one allowed to make those jokes.”

“Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s voice was rich with amusement. 

“Yes.” Chirrut felt amusement dance in his chest, “It’s rude when you do it.” 

“My apologies, then.” Obi-Wan went silent, and Chirrut heard the soft fall of metal chain against metal medallion. “Where did you find this?”

“In the market, strangely enough. I think the seller just thought it was an interesting design. I thought of you.” Chirrut reached forward, to the medallion in Obi-Wan’s hands, and ran his fingers over the raised ridges of the sword-and-wings symbol of the Jedi Order. “It felt like something you should have. The force willed it.” 

Chirrut almost smiled away his words, the little wink-nudge-grin showing he didn’t take himself too seriously. But if there was anyone who understood the importance of the force, of what moved through them, binding and connecting, it was this man.

Chirrut let his hand drop. He heard the soft rustle of chain as Obi-Wan dropped the medallion around his neck, tucking it into his robes. 

“Thank you. It was a very thoughtful gift.” 

“You’re welcome.”

There was a moment, then Obi-Wan shifted, moving a little away from Chirrut. “I’m still not sleeping with you.” 

“That’s fine. I’m still interested.” Chirrut reached forward, tapped Obi-Wan’s chest, where the medallion sat underneath robes. “They helped shape who you are. I don’t offer out of disrespect for that. But they don’t need to control who you wind up being. I hope you see that, someday.”

* * *

Chirrut stood outside Obi-Wan’s door, strangely nervous. Something about the moment, he supposed. Standing outside someone’s door, flowers in hand, uncertain of reception. It hearkened back to a younger time. 

Obi-Wan opened the door, giving a grunt of surprise, “Good morning, Master Îmwe. What brings you here?” 

“I wanted to give you these.” Chirrut brought his hand out from behind his back, bringing out the bouquet in a vase he had found tucked in the back of the quarters that had been given to him. “I went on a walk around the grounds, found the plants blooming. I wanted to share a piece of it with you.” 

There was a long, quiet moment as Obi-Wan regarded the flowers. He reached his hand out to take the vase, fingertips just brushing Chirrut’s. “Chirrut these…” 

Chirrut found a ripple of anticipation move through him. 

“...are horrific. Did you go out of your way to find the straggliest flowers possible? Is that just a stick you threw in?” 

Chirrut felt glee in his chest, but did his best to keep it off of his face. He pulled his hands away, looking hurt. “Now, Master Kenobi, just because I can’t see—” 

“No. Oh no. I know you too well for that. Come on, then.” Obi-Wan turned and walks back into his quarters, setting the flowers down on a small table. Chirrut followed, and as he did, Obi-Wan continued, “How many people have you convinced to wear hideous socks because you earnestly presented them as a gift and they didn’t want to insult the blind man?” 

“Master Kenobi, I am offended. Socks are a serious matter. I would _never_ buy someone ugly socks...I have, however, convinced five different people to wear some truly horrendous scarves.” Chirrut finally let his glee show in his face. “I’m glad you saw through that ruse.” 

“I knew you would be.” Obi-Wan’s voice was affectionate. 

Something in his tone made Chirrut bite at his lower lip. He hadn’t actually planned on going further than handing off a bouquet, but...something felt right about the moment, “Close your eyes, Obi-Wan, I want to show you something.” 

After a moment of hesitation, Obi-Wan said, “Alright.” 

“Are they closed?” Chirrut asked. His hearing was excellent, but not good enough to hear blinking. Thank heavens. That cacophony would be overwhelming quickly. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, curiosity in his tone. 

Chirrut picked up the bouquet and stepped closer to Obi-Wan, holding the flowers up under his nose. “Smell.” 

Obi-Wan inhaled, paused, “Ah. I see.” 

Chirrut reached his hand over twisting and bruising one of the leaves of a hardy bush. The smell of creosote became stronger. 

“Desert after rain,” Obi-Wan said, unprompted, something nostalgic in his tone.

Chirrut made a pleased sound, “Exactly.” He moved his hand, rolled a flower petal between his fingers. “And now?” A heady floral scent joined the creosote.

“Some palace garden in a green oasis.” 

“Mmm, there’s a lovely image.” Chirrut snapped a brittle twig, smell of spice growing stronger. “This mixture reminds me of the temple. My temple.”

“Not such a different scent from mine.” Obi-Wan said, quietly thoughtful. 

“Keep your eyes closed, Obi-Wan.” Growing bolder, Chirrut set down the vase and, hoping the Jedi was following his instructions, took Obi-Wan’s hands. There was a moment of pull-back, as Obi-Wan tensed against him. “Trust me, please.” 

Obi-Wan surrendered his hands, letting Chirrut guide them. Chirrut took Obi-Wan’s hands over to the vase, prompting Obi-Wan to stretch out his fingers. With Chirrut’s hands guiding, Obi-Wan ‘s fingertips glided over the flowers petals, to the leaves, to the bristling stems. 

“It’s a contrast in textures.” Obi-Wan murmured, pushing, starting to guide the exploration, Chirrut slowly released control of the hands, letting his fingertips brush the back of Obi-Wan’s palms as he pulled away.

He felt Obi-Wan’s shiver. 

“It’s lovely.” Obi-Wan said, some thick emotion in his tone. “And ugly. All at the same time.” 

“Like life,” Chirrut replied.

“Yes.” 

They stayed there a little longer, Obi-Wan slowly running his hands over the bouquet. There was an intimacy in the moment, and Chirrut briefly wondered if perhaps he had made his way past the Jedi’s recalcitrance at last. But as the moment lengthened, he heard Obi-Wan draw himself back together, stepping away from the vase. 

“I’ll keep the flowers. But I’m not sleeping with you,” Obi-Wan said. 

Chirrut was a little disappointed, but mostly felt a large amount of affection for this man who was so stiff and loose in equal measure, who was furious and sly and sad. Someday, he hoped Obi-Wan would feel comfortable letting him in. 

“That’s fine,” Chirrut smiled, soft. “I’m here if you decide otherwise.”

* * *

Chirrut let himself back into his quarters, balancing the dinners he had taken from the serving staff in one hand while he opened the door with the other. He heard a quiet back and forth of conversation. He knew Baze’s voice nearly better than he knew his own, of course, and after another second he picked out Obi-Wan’s, responding. 

“Good afternoon,” Chirrut said as he walked toward them, setting the platters down on the table and pressing a kiss to the top of Baze’s head. “And it’s nice to see you, Obi-Wan.” 

Baze reached out and took Chirrut’s hand, pressing a quick kiss to it. “Obi-Wan just wanted to inform me that my husband was hitting on him, repeatedly.” 

Chirrut made an offended noise. “I haven’t hit on you since the first time. I’m just making certain you know I’m still interested.” Turning back toward Baze, he asked, “So what did you tell him?” 

“That it was my idea. Though, my idea involved more bedroom exercise than seems to be going on right now.” 

“I’m trying, Dear.” 

Obi-Wan coughed, uncomfortable, and shifted. “You cannot blame me for doubting the sincerity of the offer. From my perspective, it came on rather suddenly.” 

Baze grunted, “No, it didn’t. You just need to learn how to read him. He’s been interested for a while now.” 

Chirrut felt his cheeks heat. “Well, good, I’m glad you two are getting along.” 

“I should let you get to your dinner. Thank you for the tea, Master Malbus.” 

“You should stay.” Chirrut wasn’t sure why he said it, even as he did. “Unless you have other dinner plans.”

“None...right now. I can’t help but notice there’s only two plates, though. And I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

“Stay.” Baze said, settling back in his chair, “The Alderaanian’s seem determined to pack food into us, there’s plenty here for you as well. You were telling me about that nest of gundarks.” 

“I still don’t know how you managed to pry that story out of me…”

Later, the three of them—some food still untouched—found a bottle of spirits and talked late over their glasses. Late enough that it was bordering on irresponsibility, Chirrut walked Obi-Wan to the door. 

Obi-Wan paused, then said, “That was a pleasant evening, Master Îmwe. Thank you for your company.” 

“Our pleasure.” 

There was an awkward moment after that. Chirrut had expected Obi-Wan to leave, but instead he lingered by the door a moment longer before moving imperceptibly closer. “I couldn’t sense any duplicity from Baze. He’s truly alright with you courting me?” 

Chirrut laughed. “Courting. Master Kenobi, you make me sound like a gentleman.” 

“You...have been. Strangely enough. But you didn’t answer my question.” 

“He’s absolutely fine with it. In favor, even. He likes you. More than that, though…” Chirrut gave a musing hum, trying to put thoughts into words, “Baze doesn’t need to possess to love. He likes seeing me happy. Our marriage isn’t going to hurt just because I find happiness in another person.” 

Obi-Wan stepped a little closer still, something almost pulling him toward Chirrut. His hand reached out, grazed the outside of Chirrut’s arm. Despite the lightness of the touch, the layer of robe between Obi-Wan’s hands and Chirrut’s skin, Chirrut still felt sparks at the connection. His breath hitched.

Obi-Wan stepped back again with a thoughtful grunt in the back of his throat. “Well, it’s academic. I’m not sleeping with you.” 

Chirrut found that it was a little difficult to breathe. Still, he managed to get out. “That’s fine. Let me know if you change your mind.”

* * *

Baze’s voice came in over Chirrut’s comm, “I’ve got a dead guard here, stripped and thrown in a closet. Time to get to work.”

“Right,” Chirrut changed directions and sped up, heading toward the training rooms. 

When he and Baze had first arrived on Alderaan, they had been chasing an Imperial mole trying to confirm that Bail and Breha were hosting a Jedi, who was training another Jedi-to-be. At the time, Obi-Wan was reluctant to let a pair of strangers around his training program, but it turned out that a trussed-up operative made for an excellent icebreaker. The mole was delivered, alive, and sent on his way for some reason completely convinced that there was no Jedi training happening on Alderaan. 

It turned out that stopping spies was something Chirrut and Baze excelled at. Ever since then, Chirrut and Baze had been reluctantly welcome and spies were decidedly less so. They still tried, every now and again. 

Chirrut poked his head into the room, “Lockdown.” 

Luke sighed, exaggerated. Chirrut felt the strange ripple through his being as Obi-Wan carefully categorized his mental state, followed by Luke's warm presence following after. Obi-Wan would keep up that wariness, testing every person who sought entrance to his presence until the spy was caught. Baze always said he was glad Obi-Wan had gone up against a shapeshifter before. Baze believed that nobody knew proper caution until they had fought a shapeshifter. 

As Chirrut left the room, he felt the force shift and heard the doors bolt immediately behind him. Showoff.

Spy was likely in a guard’s uniform, probably trying to slip through regular rotations. Chirrut stretched out his senses, greeting and chatting with every person he saw. He made a point of knowing the guards, the staff. He'd know an outsider. 

It seemed like all the invaders had a normal route they took. They either went to those places that gathered people, chatting casually with staff to get information, or stuck to back hallways. Chirrut took the hubs, Baze took the hallways, and they made a good team. 

Their normal rotation didn’t seem to be working this time, though. No strangers were found. None of his usual staff informants reported anyone asking odd questions.

“I’m not finding anything off, Baze.” 

Baze responded through the comm, “Quiet here, too. I’m going to expand to the grounds, they may be looking for an alternate entrance.”

“Don’t tell me the infiltrators are learning. We actually have to work hard again.” 

“A tragedy. Hunt now, whine later.” 

“I will, to both. I’ll check some of the indoor access points.” 

Chirrut was walking down one of the interior hallways when an alarmingly familiar scent caught his attention. Acrid plastic, mixed with a difficult to define but unmistakable to describe smokey chemical stink. 

Chirrut did the math on where he was standing, cursed, and pulled out his comm. “Baze, are you alone?” 

After a long pause, Baze clicked on again, “Yes.” 

“We’ve got detonite. I’m almost directly below the royal quarters.” 

“Shit.” 

“Agreed. We need to evacuate. Get as many as you can out of there, I’ll see if I can handle this.” 

“You’re not trained to—” 

“Then find me someone who is. I haven’t located it yet. But it’s here.”

“How much?”

“Depends on how far away it is. I imagine it’s close, though.”

“We haven’t caught the spy. If we start evacuating, they’ll know we found something. Could set the explosive off early.” 

“Yes. But it might be on a timer and we don’t know how long we have left. Can’t afford the delay.” Chirrut paused a long moment. “I love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

“Let me know when the royal family is clear.” He could trust Baze to handle the evacuation. And if someone trained to disarm explosives came too, so much the better. 

It really was a shame that he and Baze didn't have their situations reversed. It was hard to disarm a bomb without knowing what shape it was. And that meant Chirrut had to touch it. Touching live explosives was an action generally avoided by those who did not want to become one with the Force permanently.

Besides that, holovids informed him that bombs had a countdown shining in big red numbers. That sort of aesthetic added to the tension of the moment, but was wasted on Chirrut. 

He found the bomb soon after he started looking in earnest, following the scent of explosives to a storage room, and then up, hearing the hum of electronics on the ceiling. There was no reasonable explanation for why there would be electronics on the ceiling; aside from explosive sabotage, of course.

“Breha’s clear, we’re proceeding with evacuation as quietly as we can.” 

“I’ve found it.” Chirrut rattled off the location of the supply closet. “Going to attempt to disarm, now.” 

“You’ve got backup coming your way, Explosive Disposal will be there in twenty.” 

“We probably don’t have twenty.” 

Baze grunted. “You getting clear?” 

“I just need to find some way to mark the room. I’ll figure it out.” 

“See you soon.” 

Chirrut walked away from the explosive, picking up a box and dragging it outside the room, propping the door open.

If he could find tape or…

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. 

“Stay back,” Chirrut called.

“No,” replied Obi-Wan. 

Chirrut sighed. “You are supposed to be evacuating.” 

“You need a second pair of hands. And a first pair of eyes.” 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Chirrut couldn’t help his chuckle. “I told you, it’s rude when you do it.” 

“You be certain to lecture me at length, later. Let’s see what’s going on here, shall we?” 

Obi-Wan walked towards the closet. 

Chirrut heard something change in the hum of the electronics above him. That couldn’t be good. “Obi-Wan, stay—”

And then several things happened one after the other, but so quickly it might as well all happened at once. 

The electricity hummed and collected, a charge of energy that would soon ignite the detonite. There wasn’t any way for Chirrut to get away in time. 

Then he heard a broken, _“Chirrut!”_ from down the hallway.

Then the air moved oddly around him again, reminding him of Obi-Wan huffing in satisfaction in front of him, holding a medallion. And, just as before, the air stilled and suddenly Obi-Wan was there, standing between Chirrut and the bomb. Obi-Wan’s arms went around him, forcing his head down under Obi-Wan’s chin, shielding him from the coming explosion. 

Then the Force itself, the steady background pulse permeating Chirrut’s existence, shifted and shivered around Chirrut. It seemed to gather and grow thick around the explosive. 

Then the bomb went off. There was fire and terrible heat but it was contained away from them. There was still a concussion blast that tore through Chirrut, knocking Obi-Wan into him and knocking both of them to the ground.

* * *

Chirrut shook off the confusion slowly, his head ringing, feeling disoriented and shaken from the blast. He first realized that the hallway was still intact, that he was not buried under rubble and durasteel. He was buried under a body, though. 

Obi-Wan didn’t move against him. 

Chirrut’s hands flew up, hand on Obi-Wan’s neck, another at his wrist, shaking while they tried to find a pulse. He nearly collapsed in relief when he felt the thrum against his fingertips. 

His comm chimed, a frantic, _“Chirrut!”_ coming through.

Chirrut fumbled for his comm as he tried to brace Obi-Wan at the same time. He finally got it free, calling, “Here. Alive. Obi-Wan’s with me. He’s alive too, but unconscious. I think he did something to contain the bomb.”

There was a pause, then Baze responded, comm line catching the end of a shaky sigh. “Glad you’re alive. Just keep Obi-Wan safe, we’ll have medics to you soon.” 

The comm cut off, and Chirrut was left with the smell of char and acrid flame. With the feeling of Obi-Wan’s body limp against his. With the near-certain knowledge that he would be dead if Obi-Wan hadn’t been there. 

Not bothering to control the shaking in his hand, he reached up and cradled the back of Obi-Wan’s head, holding him still and keeping him close. The tips of his fingers brushed through the back of Obi-Wan’s hair. His other hand found Obi-Wan’s wrist, fingers resting on his pulse once more. 

He stayed like that until the medics came.

* * *

All in all, Chirrut needed three stitches for a cut on the back of his head, and he was released in twenty minutes with orders to drink lots of water. He left with Baze, his questions about Obi-Wan met with reassurance that he was getting dipped in some bacta and he would be fine. 

Chirrut permitted Baze to install him in bed and spoil him rotten for the evening. It was, after all, the traditional treatment when one of them had a near-death experience. 

There were more of those in their life than he cared to recall. 

Still, it was nice to spend a night sprawled in bed, everything he needed at his fingertips. Baze let him know that he could rest easy, the saboteur was caught, by Luke of all people. Apparently the fair-headed boy had heeded Obi-Wan and Chirrut’s lessons even better than they had realized. 

The next morning, Obi-Wan was released from the Organa’s clinic and Chirrut made a point of being there. Obi-Wan’s steps picked up when he spotted Chirrut, walking over quickly. 

“Chirrut. Thank the Force you’re alright.” 

“Entirely thanks to you, I believe. And the Force.” Chirrut grinned over at Obi-Wan and made a show of offering his arm, “I’m glad to know you are recovered, as well. Care for an escort back to your rooms?” 

Chirrut had been expecting an affectionate brush-off, so he was taken entirely off-guard when Obi-Wan actually took his arm, his hand tucked into Chirrut’s elbow. 

As they walked, Chirrut informed him, “I’m not certain if they told you, but large sections of the palace would have likely collapsed if not for your timely intervention.” 

“I...must admit that was not the first thing on my mind.” 

Chirrut gave a soft laugh. “And what was the first thing on your mind, Master Kenobi?”

“You were in trouble. I had to help.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi! You _like_ me!” Chirrut filled his voice with mock surprise. His tone turned teasing. “You liiike me.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Not like that! I'm still not sleeping with you.”

Chirrut pointedly reached over and patted Obi-Wan’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “And that's fine, but...Obi-Wan, you must know sex was never the point of this.”

Obi-Wan made a slightly confused noise. “I rather thought it was.”

“The old Jedi code doesn't forbid sex, it forbids attachment.”

“I’ve never been one for casual liaisons. One type of intimacy tends to breed another, for me,” Obi-Wan said.

“For me as well, but Obi-Wan, is how you feel about me really all that different from the attachment your order forbids?”

“It’s not my order anymore.” Obi-Wan sounded sad. “It hasn’t been for decades.” 

“I know.” Chirrut's tone was gentle. “You choose what you’re building now. And you chose to save me. Thank you, for that. But you have to admit wasn’t the detached call. You’re the only Jedi left. You should stay alive for Luke.” 

Obi-Wan shifted a little, seeming uncomfortable. “If something had happened...Luke would have been fine, with you. And Baze. I knew you’d both look after him. You love the boy.” 

Chirrut stroked his fingers over the top of Obi-Wan's hand. “That...sounds a lot like attachment to me.”

“You’re right.” 

Obi-Wan's slowing steps let Chirrut know they had arrived at his doorway. Chirrut looked over at him and said, “You should probably figure out whether or not you have a problem with that.”

“Yes. I sense a great deal of meditation in my future.” Obi-Wan’s tone was wry.

“A wise course of action, I think.” Slowly, Chirrut went up on his toes and moved his lips towards Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan didn’t move, so Chirrut pressed a soft kiss against his skin. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, “Whatever you decide, I'm glad you're still with us.”

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, then wrapped his arms around Chirrut in return. “However the Force leads me, I'm glad I saved you.” Obi-Wan squeezed Chirrut tight, then let go. After hesitating another moment, Obi-Wan turned, and went back into his room alone.

* * *

“Alright, you can drop it now,” Obi-Wan said. 

Luke let out a loud groan as the he let the ball in front of him fall to the ground. “How long was that? Felt like five hours.” 

“Fifty minutes. You’re improving.” 

Luke slowly tipped backward. “I’m exhausted. I didn’t move for an hour and I’m exhausted.” 

Chirrut walked over and nudged Luke with his foot. “Are you dead?” 

“Mostly,” Luke grumped.

“Go get lunch, you’ll feel better.” Obi-Wan came over, standing next to Luke. “I have it on good authority they’re serving that cold fruit soup you like so much.” 

His exhaustion seemingly forgotten, Luke scrambled to his feet and headed for the door.

“It is pleasant,” Obi-Wan mused aloud, “to see such unironic enthusiasm for luxury food items. All too often we constrain our joy in order to fit the standards of others.” 

“Yes, I suppose you would know a thing or two about that.” Chirrut realized what he said was a bit mean, even as the words left his mouth.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s voice had a confidant ring to it, a certainty that had been missing the whole time Chirrut had known him. “I do. I’m not hungry yet. Spar with me.” 

“Happily.” Chirrut started heading toward the mat, then stopped when he heard rustling cloth. He raised his eyebrows and turned around, confused by what he was hearing. It couldn’t be— 

“I have it on good authority,” another layer of cloth came off, “That it is very liberating, in warm weather, to shuck layers.” 

Chirrut’s mouth went dry and he started fumbling at his own robes. He grumbled as he got caught on a tangled in layers. He never had this problem, except when someone was watching. Focused on the robes, Chirrut jumped a bit as Obi-Wan came close behind him, reaching around and easing the robes off of his shoulders. Anticipation sparked in Chirrut’s core, arousal and tension coiling out through his limbs.

He took the mat, Obi-Wan a step behind him. He turned and faced the Jedi Master, gave a deep bow. Obi-Wan did the same. 

And they began.

The staff doctor had only cleared Obi-Wan for combat the day before, but his recent encounter with explosives didn’t seem to touch his speed or his grace. Chirrut enjoyed sparring with him as much as ever. 

Maybe even more than ever. Their familiar dance of attack and defense, dodge and lunge, grab and twist, was heightened by the fact that every impact, skin struck skin. The fight felt raw, pretensions and preoccupations stripped away along with the robes. 

Dodge, hook, calf against ankle, and Obi-Wan fell. Chirrut fell with him, controlling the descent and chasing him to the ground. He twisted as he did so, his thighs forcing Obi-Wan’s legs apart, denying him leverage. He used the momentum to fall up and over Obi-Wan, wrists grabbing at forearms and locking arms to the ground. 

It was the most ridiculously suggestive pin Chirrut could have managed, their groins lying just about flush, Obi-Wan’s legs in a spread that could only be described as lewd. If someone walked in on them, they would be completely justified in believing that, rather than the end of a sparring match, this was the beginning of Obi-Wan being fucked within an inch of his life. 

Chirrut was very pleased things had worked out the way they had. He was slow in releasing his hold, trying to find an appropriate witty retort.

His brain shorted out when Obi-Wan pushed _up_ , using what little leverage he had to grind against him. A groan escaped Chirrut, and his fingers clenched on Obi-Wan's arms. He somehow managed to hold himself still above Obi-Wan. He wanted to press back, he did, he was desperate to chase that friction. But...there were certain things you did not do when physically restraining someone. 

At least, not without talking about it first. Still not releasing his hold, he said, “Last I heard, Obi-Wan, this sort of thing was a distraction.” 

Obi-Wan’s head thunked back against the ground, his torso arching up, his rutting making the sensation of his cock hardening unmistakable. “You’re really going to make me say it?” 

“I don’t want to misunderstand you.” Chirrut should have been teasing, but he couldn’t help the serious tone that crept in. “You’re important, Obi-Wan. To me.”

Obi-Wan settled back down against the mat, breathing hard. “Chirrut,” Despite his jagged breath, his tone was clear and certain. “I have followed the code and the duty laid out before me, and it wasn’t enough. I have hidden and meditated and watched and it wasn’t enough. I am ready to try something else. I’m going to try happiness, for once. I’m going to sleep with you. As long as that’s still fine.” 

Chirrut swallowed, lump suddenly in his throat. “Oh. More than fine.” He let Obi-Wan’s arms go. One of his hands reached up to cradle the back of Obi-Wan’s head, the other held his weight carefully above Obi-Wan. He leaned down slowly, telegraphing his movements as he had in the hallway just a few nights before. He gave Obi-Wan plenty of warning, all the time in the world to change his mind. He stopped, his lips centimeters from Obi-Wan’s, and waited. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan shifted, lifting off the mat, and his lips brushed against Chirrut’s. The touch was light, gentle, fragile and full of promise. After a second, the kiss broke apart, Chirrut felt Obi-Wan’s hands come up, one wrapped around his lower back, one cradling his jaw. 

For a moment, everything hung there, with a gentle sense of anticipation. 

Then things shifted. Chirrut felt Obi-Wan’s legs flex against his, his arms starting to tense. Chirrut’s own breathing deepened, his focus shifted, as everything in him seemed to narrow in on the body radiating heat under him. The tension grew, in flexed thighs and digging fingers, until it snapped. 

In unison, the two of them surged forward. This should have lead to faces slammed together, teeth clacking and bloodied lips. But if Chirrut and Obi-Wan knew anything, it was their own bodies. Their lips met the way they sparred, controlled, but no less the passionate for it. The kiss was fire and steel, hard and hot. Chirrut pulled Obi-Wan up, rebalancing, moving his hand off the floor to settle on his jaw. He held Obi-Wan in place as he rocked down against him, pressed his tongue up into his mouth. 

Chirrut broke apart long enough to grin and gasp, Obi-Wan laughed and shuddered, shell-shocked between his hands. 

Then Chirrut felt the force shiver in the way it only ever did around Obi-Wan, and his ears were filled with the sound of the doors of the training room slamming shut and bolting tight. 

Chirrut groaned, “Showoff,” pulling Obi-Wan back into a rough kiss, feeling the smirk on Obi-Wan’s lips fade as his lips went slack under Chirrut’s assault. 

Obi-Wan groaned a breathless “Yes.” against his lips, shifting down his neck. Obi-Wan’s hands dragged rough lines over his back, all passion and excitement, and Chirrut found himself desperate to be closer, to have more, to be greedy with the man underneath him.

And with Obi-Wan pressing up, arousal dragging against the curve of his hip, with Obi-Wan’s lips trailing down his neck, biting and groaning affirmations as he went, with Chirrut’s own sense that this was right, that this was exactly where he was supposed to be...Chirrut enjoyed his greed.

* * *

Baze walked along the hallway, pausing outside of the practice room. The doors were shut. The doors weren’t often shut, only during lockdown. He wandered closer, lifting his hand to knock and check. But as he regarded the door he heard, on the other side of it, a familiar voice, a familiar tone, cut-off shout followed by a low groan. 

Baze lowered his hand. He heard through the doorway, “Stars, Chirrut, yes, _there_. More, more, please, I need—” 

Well. About damn time.

Baze smiled, incredibly satisfied with himself. There was a tiny smirk on his face and a bounce to his walk as he turned and headed toward the kitchens. He could manage to keep Luke busy for an hour or two.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have a tiny pairing (or trio!) that's near and dear to your heart? Tell me about it in the comments or [on Tumblr.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sassysnowperson) If it strikes my fancy I'll take a stab at it!


End file.
